Catch a Falling Star
by Slinky-and-the-BloodyWands
Summary: Series of one-shots that form a story. Drusilla told her she'd do it. And that she'd have fun. But Elle refused to believe that she'd ever become a monster. Until the day it happened. Real-family. Also featuring Spike, Angel, Reid.
1. Make a Wish

**Disclaimer: I do not own **_**Criminal Minds **_**or **_**Buffy the Vampire Slayer**_**. **

**A/N: This is a series of one-shots that form a story. I'm posting them together in order to make things easier for the readers. Elle and Dru looked way too alike for me not to do a family story with them. Spoilers up to season two, episode five/six of **_**Criminal Minds**_**. Set Post-_Angel._**

**A/N: This first story "Make a Wish" deals mainly with what's in the lead summary._  
_**

* * *

"**Make a Wish"**

* * *

"You're wrong, Dru. I won't do it."

Drusilla's grin was small, mischievous. For Elle, it was almost like looking in a mirror. As much as she knew she shouldn't take her eyes off the other women, she had to turn away.

Drusilla hummed, letting her eyelids drift shut a moment. "Yes," she said, as if she'd just received confirmation, "you will. And when you do, all the little angels and demons in your head are going to dance together." Her voice lowered, guttural and raw, her accent lost in the theatrics. "It'll feel so right."

Elle shook her head. The simple motion caused her entire torso to ache. How was it that one wound could hurt so much? She turned away, tried to hide the pain. It would still be weeks, maybe months before she'd return to work, but the woman, the being, beside her didn't need to know how weak that made Elle feel.

"Not going happen," Elle bit.

"The stars," Drusilla whispered. She paused, swaying slightly to unheard music. Icy fingers reached out, touching Elle's hair. "The stars say otherwise."

* * *

His breath smelled like coffee. The stench was revolting. Even more nauseating, though, was the fact that hers probably smelled the same. It was the same coffee from the same pot, from the damn department the two of them had just left. Elle had to stop the scowl from forming on her face.

She tried to push it down. Tried not to let the monster out.

But Lee leaned even closer.

"Thank you," he said. His wide eyes were sincere, as if he truly believed the words coming out of his mouth. Elle knew he did. Rationality had left him long ago. "You've made a lot of women very happy."

So sincere. So untrue.

Elle felt it inside. Squeezing her intestines. It was rage. It was hate. It was fingers digging into her chest wound for another dab of red ink. Her body trembled once at the memory and then grew stony. A sort of calmness rolled over her.

_She was right. _It was the only thought Elle could form. The rest was not thought; it was instinct. _Dru was right. _

"Hey, Lee!" Elle called. Casual. Fun. Because, for a part of her, it would be. Fun.

The gun was already drawn. He looked, with those sincere eyes-as if he thought, maybe, just maybe, she had called his name to confirm his theory, to accept his _thank you_-and Elle pulled the trigger. One round pushed him back. Number two did the deed. The third was just for fun.

Fun. No, that was wrong. Elle tried to chide herself. Nothing was fun, only satisfying and unsatisfying. And this definitely fit in the satisfying category.

When she looked away from his body, a falling star caught her eye. Elle made no wish. She didn't need to…not anymore.

"Do you want to paint a picture with him?"

The voice made her jump. Drusilla stepped out from her shadowed hiding spot, a ghost of Elle's past. "Like that burned daddy did with your pretty insides?" Drusilla asked. "Do want to make a fingerpainting with him?"

Elle thought she might vomit. She told herself the urge was caused by the memory of fingers digging into her body. Not by the dead man laying on the ground.

"I have to call this in," Elle said. Her lidded gaze found Dru's. The vampire was giving her a mocking pout. "You should leave."

But she didn't. Drusilla stepped forward and wrapped her icy arms around Elle's torso. And hummed, and swayed. This was as close to comfort as the creature could provide.

Elle couldn't help but melt against her. It was illogical. It was foolish. A killing machine was holding her like a mother, but Elle wouldn't pull herself free. She'd felt this creature, this…even now, after all these years, Elle had a hard time admitting to herself that Drusilla was a vampire. A real vampire, not some delusional mental patient with a taste for blood, but a supernatural being from an age long past. The agent shivered and the cold flesh against hers didn't help.

The cold.

That was her clearest memory of the first time she'd met Drusilla. It had been only days after her father had fallen in the line of duty. Elle had always had a temper. Always been a strong willed child, a trait she knew she'd inherited from her Cuban mother. She'd wanted to see his grave again, even though the rain was heavy and it was nearly midnight. So, she'd snuck out.

And Drusilla had found her. Been waiting for her.

Even as a child, Elle had been able to recognize monsters, and she knew, from the hair standing on the back of her neck, that the beautiful woman in front of her, the one who looked so very much like the pictures of her paternal grandmother, was dangerous. Yet, she didn't run away. Couldn't.

* * *

"You going to eat that, Dru?"

The man stepped out from behind a rather large statue of an angel. A lighter flashed a few inches from his face, hissing against the rain and casting his sharp features, his short, white blond hair, in an eerie orange glow. But the woman tutted, only bending down slightly, to Elle's height.

"Who are you?" Elle asked. She took a step backwards, her brown ponytail bouncing against her neck. "I think I should go home.

"Shh, now," Drusilla chided the man, looking over one shoulder, but not quite at the figure approaching behind her. Her voice was strange, childlike, and Elle could just recognize the accent as English. "We don't eat family, Spike…"

The man huffed, pushing back his leather duster to pocket the lighter. "Since when?" He paused, pulling a drag off his cigarette and releasing a puff of smoke. "Wait-what? Whose family?"

"Later, my viper," Drusilla hissed, playfully. And snapped, like an animal, at the thin air. But she kept Elle's gaze. The child swayed, as if entranced by the woman's lidded eyes. "Do you know who I am, my little star?"

"No," Elle muttered, feeling lightheaded. For a moment, she thought she might be dreaming, because the woman in front of her, her eyes looked almost yellow in the moonlight. "Did you know my daddy?"

Drusilla reached out, touching the young girl's cheek with the back of one hand. Elle wanted to pull away from the icy fingers. Cold, so very cold.

"I knew his blood," the woman answered, smiling slightly. "I've been following it for so many years now. You see, my second daddy didn't like my family very much, and he tried to kill them all. Make a pretty mess of my mummy. But my oldest sister married a fat old man when she was a girl, moved far away, to some smelly country made of spice and sweat, and she had fat little babies. And they had fat babies of their own. Who had more fat babies." Drusilla tapped the child's nose with one finger. "And one of those babies had you."

Elle shook her head. "I don't understand."

Drusilla cocked her head to one side, in study, a pout at her lips. Finally, she straightened again, and pushed a doll at the girl. It's dress was old, nearly matching the beautiful gown the woman was wearing. "Go home, little star." Drusilla's voice was hushed, nearly a whisper, "and when you're ready to burn out, I'll come back and we'll play so _many_ games together."

Elle hesitated only a moment before taking the doll into her arms. Its ceramic face pressed into her neck. The stone felt almost as cold as Drusilla's skin.

* * *

Drusilla's grip tightened slightly, and Elle closed her eyes so that she wouldn't have to stare at Lee's body. She felt the vampire's lips against her collar bone. It wasn't a romantic gesture, but it was almost as soft, almost as meaningful.

"No," Elle said, holding back the emotion, "not yet. I'm not ready."

Drusilla pulled away, her eyes upwards, staring at the sky. She swayed slightly, as if dizzied by the view. There was a frown at her lips, an almost angry expression. "No," she agreed, "not yet. They say, not yet. Soon, though, soon you'll be ready to play."

"They're right, Dru," Elle said, relief flooding her system. "But you should leave," she swallowed. "I need to call the police. Clean up this mess."

Mess.

Had she really gone that far? Was a corpse really just a mess to her? Elle realized it was. Maybe the stars were right. Maybe it would happen soon.

"Goodnight, niece," Drusilla said, kissing her cheek. "Watch out for knights, they do love to slay us dragons."

"I'm a good liar," Elle replied, looking up at the stars. She saw nothing but celestial bodies. No signs. No singers. "I'll see you soon."

She knew the vampire was gone before she lowered her eyes. There was something else she knew as well. Elle was fine with what she'd done. No part of her worried over it, fretted at the consequence. She could allow herself to be a human monster, if she needed to. If that was what it took to feel complete. But she refused to lose that humanity, to be a real creature of the night.

Elle licked her lips. She was a good liar. There would be no future meeting with her aunt, because she would run. From this life, from the people who cared about her. She would burn up in the atmosphere before she ever let Drusilla put out her light.


	2. Put It in Your Pocket

**Disclaimers**: I do not own Criminal Minds (rights to CBS) or Buffy the Vampire Slayer or Angel (rights to Whedon).

**Summary:** Second story in _Catch a Falling Star_ series. Spike sees Elle from afar and mistakes her for Drusilla.

* * *

"Put It in Your Pocket"

* * *

"_My little star._"

Elle Greenaway's back was rigid as soon as she heard the utterance. Her face was dark in the blackened room, just enough moonlight shining in to show one hand on the mattress beside her, fingers loosely holding her private handgun, a near duplicate of the one she'd handed in with her badge. The other arm held a porcelain doll flat against her stomach. A doll she'd had for too many years.

A doll a beautiful woman in a cemetery had given her.

"_My little star, my how you've fallen_."

She studied the standard hotel furnishings, as if expecting to see the monster in the shadows, the one with such an endearing title. But the vampire wasn't there, wasn't anywhere nearby, and Elle was safe for now. Safe from having her light put out. Safe from becoming a true monster, not just the human kind.

"Aunt Drusilla?" Elle asked, just to check. Just once more.

"_I'm going to catch my little fallen star_."

The voice was real, but it wasn't present in any place or time. It was in Elle's head, and for some reason that she couldn't quite explain, the ominous promise left a small, twitching smile at her lips. She tugged the doll closer, feeling the icy chill of the ceramic cheek against her own forearm. It felt so amazingly like Dru's touch.

Elle missed it. Just a little.

"Come and get me," Elle teased the night.

And she knew she would run before the vampire could get close. Elle was good at running, especially now. She ran from her life, from her work, from her friends, her family. The faces of her teammates still remained at the front of her mind, their sad, disappointed frowns clear as ever, even though it had been months since she'd quit the Bureau. Months since she'd quit taking their phone calls, listening to the messages they'd leave. She'd ditched the cell with them in mind, picked up a pre-paid, but she somehow doubted any of them would be looking for her. Would want to look for her.

Elle closed her eyes, picturing a face so much like her own, dark curls cascading down the other woman's shoulders. A feminine, outdated dress pressing at her breasts. And a mouthful of blood pouring down, dripping off her chin. Elle's eyes shot open, her gaze hyper vigilant, but the room remained empty. The ex-agent's words were shaky, but confident, when they finally came.

"If you want to catch me, you'll have to find me first."

* * *

For the most part, vampires kept their senses tuned down when they weren't on the hunt, but there were certain scents that would always catch their attention. Fresh blood, the musk of sex, and, of course, the smell of a sire. Because one never forgot their parents.

So, Spike thought it was strange, glimpsing his maker from afar and not smelling her on the air. A second's reasoning left him with an answer: she wasn't real. She was in his mind. That or she was a ghost. Either way, she was haunting him, and he meant to put a stop to it.

Angel had told Spike, back in LA, that Drusilla was still around, hiding some place. Without them. Without a soul. Spike imagined she was still the vicious killer he remembered, unless one of the new slayers had gotten her stake in the vampire. For some reason, as easy as that scenario would make his unlife, the thought of a stranger staking his Dru left him feeling empty. Which is why he ripped a piece of a wooden crate from the dumpster and held it high in his leather sleeve.

Spike slipped across the street, following the glimpse he'd seen. Tall black boots, a high collar gray jacket hiding the skirt and blouse beneath, head dipped low, as if to hide from the weather. It didn't look like Drusilla, not from behind, but he'd glimpsed her silhouette in the street lamp, known that long nose, those plump lips, the shape of the hooded eyes he'd spent a century staring into.

Only the way she moved was different. No sway, only force. She didn't glide through the air, she cut through it. And Spike didn't smell a vampire. Not a one.

"Drusilla." Because he couldn't stop himself from trying.

The woman stopped in her tracks. Her body stiff when she turned, looking back down the sidewalk. Her eyes met Spike's and widened, first in fear, then in anger.

Spike cursed under his breath. She wasn't Dru. Not even close. Hell, she wasn't even her bloody doppleganger, but there was enough resemblance to still throw him. His gaze narrowed, taking her in, and he remembered a day, a few decades back. Actually, it was more a night. And it had been raining.

_He liked to watch his lady hunt. Though he wasn't much for children, unless the mood was right, the way Drusilla moved about little ones, drawing them in and terrifying them all at once… It was a sight to behold. But, the storm was rolling in, and this little bit was going to get soggy. Not to mention he was getting bloody peckish just sitting about, not another neck in sight._

With an unnecessary huff, he stepped out from behind a statue, not a care in the world, and lit himself up a fresh cigarette, rain be damned.

"You going to eat that, Dru?"

Because he sure as hell wasn't going to let the child go to waste.

Drusilla swayed, a chiding laugh on her lips when she looked over her shoulder. That narrow gaze was playing with him. "We don't eat family, Spike…"

"Since when?" Smoke slipped from his lips. He blinked, letting the words sink in. "Wait-what? Whose family?" 

Spike never got a full answer. He listened in, sure, heard Drusilla claim the little girl was her niece or some such. But he'd never really brought it up again. Hell, much as he loved her back then, she was loony as a Jay, and she'd, more than once, called a tiger or a blue bird her kith and kin. For all Spike knew, this was another one of Dru's games.

Only, it appeared it wasn't. This woman looked too much like Dru, _felt _too much like Dru, for it to be a coincidence, and from the expression on her face, she recognized him, even after all these years. This was the child from the cemetery.

Just when Spike was ready to shove off, she took a step forward, brow low, her pretty face fierce. "Where is she?" she asked, a growl at the back of her throat.

It wasn't an animal's, wasn't a demon's, but it was enough to give Spike pause.

"Took you for someone else," Spike excused. "Sorry, love."

But she was in front of him, grabbing hold of his arm.

"Is this a game to you?" she spat, eyes aflame. She was sucking in air like there wasn't enough left on the street. "Is she just playing with me? Waiting for the right time?"

Spike snorted. But something in those eyes… they were familiar, though a different color, full of emotion in a way Dru's never was… but it was because of those eyes he found himself trapped. He didn't know why, but he stayed put, certain he'd tell this woman whatever she wanted to hear.

"How long ago did you see her?" the cockiness was gone from his voice, leaving it husky, demanding. "When did you last speak to Drusilla?"

She blinked those heavy lids. "You're a monster, aren't you? A vampire, like her?"

Spike didn't bother to answer. She already knew.

"Are you going to kill me?"

"No."

Her gaze softened, a plea, unspoken, on her ruby lips. "Why not?"

* * *

Spike sat in the chair, staring out the window, trying to make out shapes on the world below. When the woman moved, his attention shot to her. But she was still sleeping, her head buried in the pillow.

He wasn't sure how it had happened exactly, how he'd ended up giving her his word he'd help. But he had.

His cell phone buzzed against his thigh and he pulled it free before it had a chance to ring, switching it off. Angel would call back later if it was important. Spike guessed the voice mail would probably be filled with recordings of a steady stream of bitching. Spike was supposed to have returned with the book Angel needed to banished the Great Goo, or whatever the hell the slime demon was calling itself. Only Spike had taken a little detour…Found something more interesting.

Elle muttered in her sleep.

Spike caught the whisper: "_Rules._" But he wasn't sure what it meant to her. He only knew that she'd needed sleep and she couldn't get it if he left her alone. So, he'd stayed.

He planned to call Angel back before dawn, ask for a pick-up. For two. Because Elle Greenaway was coming with him. With them, and Peaches didn't have a say in it. Spike had made the lady a promise, and he meant to see it through.

"She'll never catch you," Spike swore.

Elle relaxed against the mattress, at peace. Spike had a feeling she hadn't been there in a very long time. He could relate. Spike drifted off, head tilted onto his leather shoulder, boots crossed over the edge of the bed, and dreamt of falling stars.

* * *

She watched.

So many years of cutting open and playing and feasting. And now she watched, just watched.

Drusilla cocked her head to the side, eyes wondering up to the stars above. She hummed along with their song. "I know," she sung, and clapped manically to the rhythm, "soon, soon, _soon._"

And suddenly her back straightened, the insanity in her gaze shifting from something childlike to something hard and sharp and stabbing. A grin crept onto her face.

"When the time is right," she agreed, though no one listened.

Drusilla stepped down the street, away from her little ones, not giving the window another glance. She'd come back for her family soon. Put the world back together again and let it burn so prettily. Just like she'd promised she would. Everything was coming together so very perfectly.


	3. He Sings

**Disclaimer:** I do not own any rights to _Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Angel_ the series, or _Criminal Minds_, and I'm making no money of this story.

**Author's notes:** Third in _Catch a Falling Star_ series. Kind of a short interlude away from Elle.

**Summary:**While Spike keeps Elle hidden, a frustrated Drusilla makes other arrangements.

* * *

"He Sings"

* * *

The night was loud, and quiet, too. Too much, too little, too soon…Yes,_ too soon_. Drusilla pouted, a high whine at the back of her throat, building, the steady stream of frustration shaking her body. Just before it became too much, she stopped, the fit ending, her wide, wet eyes drifting skyward.

Because, there, just below the shape of the big bad bear, someone was singing her another tune. Too soon, yes, she'd made her move too soon. Scared her little fallen star away. _Naughty, naughty, Princess Drusilla_, she chided, slapping her wrist. _You'll never catch her now. Not without a special helper._

The fallen star had found the prince, she did, found her Spike, who could pick up the pieces and put her together again. But she'd never reach the sky. Never be what she was. And so long as the little star stayed away from heaven, Dru could catch her.

Would catch her.

The vampire gave a firm, single nod.

"Not to fret, not to fret, my sweet pet," she cooed, and spun. When the laugh left her mouth, her dance stopped, and she caught her balance by grasping the pole of the money bars.

How she loved an evening in the park. Her knight, he used to take her. Her daddy, he never would.

Soon, though, soon, her family would be whole again. And they'd, each of them, dance in the park and in the garden and in the salon. Dance and rip and drink and ride and…Drusilla pressed her spine against the metal ladder, a deep, hungry growl of delight at the back of her throat.

And when the pleasure reached its peak, she sucked in the cool night air, tasting the moisture, tasting his scent. It was sweet with fear.

"Shhh, duckling," she called, "grandmummy is coming."

Drusilla strolled back to the swings. No babies here, none after dark, and not even a homeless old smelly to pick off. But her pet was here, where she'd brought him.

It hadn't been hard to choose. The hungry lioness, she dipped low into the grass and stalked and waited and jumped on the one who'd separated off from the rest. The one who didn't go straight home. He was perfect and so ripe with guilt when she sung her Elle's name.

Drusilla had been delighted when she'd given him a little kiss and heard all the whispering voices in his head singing right back, in perfect tune. What a choir! They'd been so happy to be heard…

"What did you do to Elle?" he asked. Even though his brain, so full, asked different questions. _Why, When , How? Is the devil dancing here? Can evil really taste my fear?_

His voice was high and lovely. Dru would make him read her dolls a fairytale before bed. They'd be delighted.

A boy. Dru wasn't sure if she wanted another boy in her family. She liked it when things were in pairs, but Drusilla wasn't selfish. If it would make her fallen star happy, she'd bring her a pet to play with. Dru would hold him out and make him bark and make him whine until Elle came crawling out to comb his coat.

And _snap!_The trip of the trap.

Dead little Elle would make the singing boy hers. And what a bunch they'd be then. The more the merrier.

Drusilla crouched down on her knees, putting her clawed hands on his long thighs. Her dress would be dirty, and she liked the idea. His arms were held high, tied to the swing's chains, and turning such a lovely shade of purple from her pinches. She leaned down, pressed her ear against the inside of his leg. He twitched and whimpered and wanted to run.

"None of that now," she snapped.

And he stilled. Such a good boy. She listened to the beat of his heart in that long pumping hose down his thigh. It was lovely. Saliva pooled in her mouth, and she snapped her teeth, pretending to tear the flesh.

He jumped at the noise.

Drusilla frowned up at him, cupped her fingers around his smooth chin. "Don't fret, my song bird," she said, "Grandmummy is saving you for later."

His mouth opened. Things he'd said once already:_ I'm an FBI agent. My name is Spencer Reid. You don't want to do this._Sing me another song, she'd requested, after each one.

"What are you?" he whispered.

She tapped his nose with one finger, a giggle at her lips, and leaned forward with a kiss. "You know," she said, with a lover's softness, "you already know."


	4. Never Let It Fade Away

**Disclaimer**: I do not own Angel or Criminal Minds. Written for fun, not profit.

**Summary: **Spike promised to keep her from turning into a monster. Will he be able to keep that promise, or will Dru succeed after all?

* * *

"Never Let It Fade Away"

* * *

"_Tweet, tweet_, said the bird, _I mustn't cry too loudly, or the hungry cat will give a glance_."

Drusilla knew her boy heard the warning, because he stilled as best he could, muscles trembling in anticipation. The ropes at his wrists whined as he strained them against the edges of the table, but it did nothing more than pinch his skin. She raked her hand through his lovely hair, scraping at the scalp before she drew her claws down his long neck, his bare back.

He was such a pretty thing, almost too lovely and breakable for a boy, but certainly perfect for a pet. Yes, she was happy she'd chosen him, followed him, taken him…Her sweet falling star wouldn't be able to resist helping such a lost lamb, and while Drusilla waited for her dear Elle to ripen, the voices in his mind proved to be such fine companions.

With his cheek pressed against the wood, he couldn't turn to see her, but he tried. He never stopped trying, and every failure left a fresh wave of fear into the air. She watched his tears gather in puddles against the grain. Dru giggled at the sight—she'd make him lap them up when they finished.

She pinched the skin over his shoulder blade with two fingers, liking how the tender flesh slid over the sharp bone.

"Please…don't…"

The chirp was soft. Drusilla _tsk_ed through her teeth. "Now, now—this won't hurt a bit. Grandmummy clips all her little birdies' wings just the same."

She opened the blades of the sheers like a pair of women's legs and snugged his flesh in tight between them. "_Snip_," she whispered, "_snip_." And she closed them, taking off a sliver of porcelain white.

He gave a delightful howl, all for her entertainment, and she clapped along to the sound, the scissors still in her fingers. Before his breathing could slow, she reached to his other shoulder blade, pinching the skin and clipping it free.

Drusilla swayed to the sound of his new song—it was her favorite yet. All his voices were chipping in, and the choir shook dust from the rafters. She closed her eyes in ecstasy, feeling her face shift in hunger. It was the scent of him that was nearly her undoing. All these red rivers were begging to be played in…but Drusilla would only splash about. She'd promised him to her dear niece, after all.

Hands coated in crimson, she sucked off her fingers, pretending he was made of honey. She stopped when she heard the sound outside, of an inquisitive pair, listening in on her song bird's singing…That wouldn't do at all.

"Look—you've brought beggars to the door. Who's left to feed them while you whimper? _Shh_, now, while Grandmummy makes friends. If we're lucky, there's a wolf in wait…"

* * *

The stars were always watching her. Waiting for her. Elle felt them overhead but refused to look up, afraid that, just this once, she'd be able to read their message. An arm brushed against her, Spike, his eyes ahead, but Elle knew the movement was deliberate. He did it often when they were out together, as if he could tell just when she started to slip inside herself.

She'd known him for only a few months and already he could read her behavior. Perhaps it was because he always seemed to be watching her, almost as often as the stars, as if they both expected her to transform into a monster at any moment. Or maybe it was just because he had a hundred years on her, and that was all anyone needed to become a damn good profiler.

"How long are we going to stay here? Angel said we might move north."

Spike shrugged, the way he usually did. "Peaches and Big Blue are off hunting us up a bungalow for all I bloody well know. Not like they bother to consult me, 'o course. Should be consulting you, though, since you're going to be footin' the rent until Captain Forehead manages to free up his accounts." He shook his head. "Can't believe he didn't clear out his money before waging war—guess he forgot he was fighting lawyers…Idiot."

Their group had mentioned moving on several times, specifically when they repeatedly asked Elle if she was coming with them. Always Spike had a certain sparkle in his eye when he asked, as if he wasn't planning on giving her a choice in the matter.

Something made him dangerously attentive. Overprotective in a way that would have frightened her, if she hadn't known he had good reason for standing too close. Elle knew what that something was, of course: her Aunt Drusilla.

The evidence of her aunt's bloodline was clearly written in the features of her face, more so than even Elle had ever noticed. When Spike had first taken her to meet Angel, the darker vampire had also reacted strangely, had seen Drusilla staring back at him for a moment. But, while, over the weeks since, Spike had stayed glued to her side like an ever present guardian, Angel had stayed as far from her as possible. He always had an excuse for why he and that odd blue demon of theirs, Illyria, had to go hunt a monster by themselves or check in on a nest one county over.

Elle could have picked up on the history there, between these vampires and their Drusilla, even if Spike hadn't broken it down to her in colorful terms. She'd reached a conclusion before Spike had ever reached the end of the story; Angel felt guilt every time he looked at her heavy, hooded eyes, as if her existence were proof of what should have been, of who Drusilla would have been if he hadn't driven her mad and murdered her… Spike didn't feel guilt when he looked at her, not since they'd first met. Spike took what was on the surface, the chance to keep Elle safe from a creature he'd spent a century in love with, and he rolled with it.

A burst of laughter slipped out from between her lips, and Elle tried to stifle it.

Spike shot her a look. "Twasn't that funny, love."

She shook her head, coming to a stop under a streetlamp. "I'm an ex-FBI agent who's living with two vampires with souls and a blue demon creature I can't even begin to classify—yes, actually, it is that funny, Spike… How on Earth did I even get here?"

Spike came to a stop beside her, digging in his coat for a cigarette. "You walked. Just like the rest of us."

Something must have caught his ear because he turned. Elle followed his gaze down the darkened sidewalk. The street was desolate, urban waste in shades of gray, and there, at the backside of her building, she saw the lone other figure on her block, hunched down against the door to the loft apartment.

"I smell blood," Spike said, quietly.

Elle reached into her purse and pulled out a stake for him. Another reach and she retrieved a handgun for herself—just because demons now existed in her world didn't mean she'd forgotten the other monsters who roamed the earth. They approached quickly, keeping an eye out for an ambush, but none came. When Elle got a closer look, she could see the figure was a pudgy cheeked teenage girl with greasy brown hair down to her chest. She was wrapped in a thick coat, but the zipper was down, showing a blood splattered shirt beneath.

The girl didn't look up, her eyes fixed ahead. Lost. For a moment, Elle thought she was dead, but then the teen opened her mouth.

"Are you Elle?" the girl said, not looking up.

Elle and Spike shared a silence glance. Neither of them answered, but the girl raised a hand, holding a letter up.

Spike kept his eyes glued on the stranger, but Elle couldn't look away from the yellowed envelope. Written in curling letters across the front were four words she lived in dread of: _"My Little Fallen Star."_

"It's for me."

"Yeah, I figured." Spike sounded distant. It was a split second move, but dove past, tackling the girl to the ground, the stake held flush against her shirt. "Best you sit tight," he growled. "We'll have questions for you."

Elle didn't have time to question the move—the teenager's face shifted, her brow a heavy, mangled mess, jagged fangs filling her mouth. A vampire. Of course. Because all the people she seemed to meet these days were dead.

Spike growled back at the girl. "Had a bit too much blood on you for one person, whelp. You'd know better if you weren't a bloody newborn."

Elle ripped the envelope open. She pulled loose a folded letter, feeling something thicker, heavier still inside, but the smear of red over the paper begged her attention. She sat down on the stoop, where the teenage vampire had been a minute earlier, and tried to make sense of the neat cursive across the unlined page. It wasn't easy to read. Bloody thumbprints smeared the ink in spots, as if Drusilla's hands had been soaked in it when she'd picked up the pen to write.

_My Dearest Elle,_

_I miss you, my little star. Family shouldn't be apart for so long. Did you look up at the sky tonight? They're not singing our song yet. Wait, the moon says. Wait. Soon, the stars say. Soon—but I don't like to wait and soon is too far away. I like to take and have. So, I found us another singer, a pretty little song bird with such a lovely voice. Won't you come and hear him? I got him just for you. I clipped his wings before they could grow, so he'll be sure to stay._

_Do you like the red mess he made? Does it remind you of the one I helped you with, that hungry man who brought out your monster? They do so bleed alike._

_Love,_

_Aunt Drusilla_

"What's it say?"

Elle looked up. Spike was only a few feet away, his knees still pinning the other bucking vampire down, his own face distorted into that of a monster's. They were just lucky no witnesses had walked past.

"Doesn't make any sense," she muttered. But it did. The profiler in her knew it did, but she didn't want to think of what it meant.

"Yeah, well, that's Dru for you."

Elle tipped the envelope and a heavier object fell out. It was a thick, laminated card, a hole for a clip at the top. A glossy layer of translucent letters caught the light. She recognized it for what it was; an ID, specifically an ID given to employees of the Bureau. Fingers trembling, she flipped it over.

"Reid." She swallowed the name, but it didn't make it down her throat. Elle's face hardened. "She has Reid."

Spike cocked a brow, not following. Elle didn't need him to. She jumped up, crossing the distance in one stride and bringing the blunt heel of her boot down onto the girl's nose, crushing cartilage. The vampire cried out in pain, gurgling up her stolen blood.

"Where?" Elle asked. "_Where?"_

Spike didn't move; didn't speak. The other vampire looked to him, as if for help, and then back to Elle, as if she were staring up at some horrible dragon who was threatening to set fire to her flesh. Elle hoped that's what the creature saw. She hoped she really looked that terrifying.

"Where did you get this?" Elle hissed. She didn't have to say it was the vampire's last chance.

"That woman…that woman grabbed Mickey and me…" she said, the sound wet and pitched, muffled from the fold that used to be her nostrils. "…We heard screaming down by that old tile factory by the railroad…She said we could pick which one of us lived…Mickey picked me…"

Elle bent down to one knee. "You didn't live. You were murdered."

She wrapped her fingers around Spike's and pushed the stake in with a quick thrust. The girl let out a broken scream and crumbled into dust.

"I know the place," Spike announced. He chewed his bottom lip, as if he wanted to say more. "Who's Reid?" When Elle didn't answer, he shook his head. "Drusilla took some bloke you know. You realize it's a trap, don't you?"

Elle looked around, as if she'd just noticed they were both on the ground, holding the stake. She let go of him and pushed herself back up, not a drop of emotion showing on her face. "If Aunt Dru wants me to be a monster, I'll be a monster. But, she won't like what she sees. I can guarantee it."

* * *

Elle didn't have to look the number up. It was the last one she still had memorized from the job she'd left behind. The _life _she'd left behind. Drusilla may not have killed her yet, may not have succeeded in turning her into one of her undead children, but Dru had taken her life from her with the threat alone.

Elle's finger hesitated over the last digit.

No, that wasn't quite true. Drusilla hadn't shot Lee dead. The vampire had been there, planting the seed, but Elle had been the one to fire. To kill. To enjoy it. Elle had ended that life right then and there. Drusilla was simply the reason she hadn't stuck around for the aftermath.

The phone buzzed against her ear. Elle crossed the room, ignoring the glances Spike was sending her. He was watching carefully, but not calling the shots—this was her game. He was just there to save her from herself. Elle turned her back on him as soon as the call was picked up.

"_SSA Derek Morgan_."

So formal. Elle smirked. Of course he didn't know it was her number. It was a pre-paid. He probably though the caller was someone he'd left his card with.

Elle wasn't sure why she'd called his phone instead of getting connected through the main line—it would be just as easy to be transferred to J.J.—but she supposed she'd always felt more connected to Derek. Maybe it was because they'd both lost their fathers at such a young age, in such similar circumstances. Like recognized like. Elle didn't think he'd recognize her at all these days.

"Morgan." Elle straightened, gathering her thoughts. "It's Elle Greenaway."

The pause wasn't because he didn't recognize the name, she knew. "_Elle?" _He let out a breathy chuckle of disbelief. _"How long's it been? Nearly a year?"_

Elle didn't answer him. Had it been that long? She'd travelled, hid, lost herself, for several months before running into Spike… She shook it off. "Morgan, is Reid there?"

Another pause. Elle closed her eyes, biting down, as if she could stop the grimace. His silence was answer enough. "How long has he been missing?"

"_How—how did you know he was missing?"_

"Where was he last seen?"

"_That's what we're trying to figure out. The kid took a week off to go visit his mom. When he didn't come back to work yesterday or check in, we…"_ Morgan let out a huff of frustration. _"Elle, how did you know he was missing? We just found out ourselves. Where are you?"_

"Over a week." Elle processed that information. She had no clue where Drusilla might have snagged him, but that wasn't the point. The point was that he really was missing. This wasn't a case of credentials being picked up. She'd know that deep down; Drusilla wasn't the type to play that game. Still, she'd wanted to be sure… Now she was.

_"Elle, please."_ There was desperation in his voice. _"You can't just call and…Christ, what do you know about, Reid? Have you seen him? You need to tell me what you know, Elle."_

Elle closed the phone and tossed it to Spike. "Get rid of that on the way. I need you to show me the tile factory."

"Angel will be here—"

"I'm not waiting any longer!" she snapped.

Spike frowned. "One of us needs to bring up the obvious, love."

"He might be dead." Elle's jaw hardened in anger, but not at Spike. "I know. I'm still going…You don't get it, but Reid...Reid's brilliant, sweet, good at his job, but he's…He's got this look in his eye, like a kid who's been hurt."

Spike brushed his arm against her, the way he did so often. "Let's go."

* * *

The factory was empty; the blood was dry. Drusilla hadn't waited for them.

Spike fingered the ropes on the long work table. They were stained dark, the same shade as the word written on the wall beside it: _SOON_. An answer to the question on Elle's mind.

"Doesn't look like he much blood," Spike said. "Could still be alive."

"That's comforting," Elle said, not sounding convinced.

"He's still bleeding, so he's still living—that's something, right?"

Elle let out a long breath. "And what if he's a monster when I finally find him?"

Spike watched her, those blue eyes too intense. Elle knew the look, like he was waiting for her to turn, waiting to see the shift. He walked her out of the building, an arm thrown around her shoulders, as if they were two friends out for a drink. A mockery of a life neither of them had anymore. He didn't have to give his promise again; he'd told her he'd keep Dru from making her into a monster. He'd keep his word, no matter what.


	5. Save It for a Rainy Day

**Disclaimer**: I do not own Angel or Criminal Minds or the quote from Alice's Adventures in Wonderland, obviously. Written for fun, not profit.  
**Summary: **Elle has spent the last year knowing it would come to this.  
**Author's notes: **I _think_ this is the final story in this series—but who knows if my brain will really let it end here. Let me know what you guys think.

* * *

"Save It for a Rainy Day"

* * *

_This is the way the world ends_

_This is the way the world ends_

_This is the way the world ends_

_Not with a bang but a whimper._

~T.S. Eliot, _The Hollow Men_

* * *

"Soon is dead, I killed it before it could get away…"

Drusilla's voice drifted off, her eyes staring up at the high aluminum ceiling above.

"Do you hear that, duckling? Today's the day our family comes out to play."

Sharp fingernails clicking against the walls of his cage, she paused her rhythmic tap and sunk down to her knees, her skirt billowing around her. The vampire's eyes widened in realization. "You know, pretty birdie, I think you might be a swan instead…" Red-stained lips curled into a predatory grin. "Will you sing your song for me?"

* * *

_"Go home, little star, and when you're ready to burn out, I'll come back and we'll play so _many_ games together."_

Elle had been a child, suffering the loss of her father, when Drusilla had spoken those words to her. It was the first night they'd met, the first time Elle had ever encountered real monsters before, and it was the first time Drusilla had let her niece walk away alive. It was not the last. That promise, to come back, had haunted the woman her whole life.

When Drusilla had come back, though, Elle…Elle would never admit it, especially to the man standing at her side, but when Drusilla had reappeared in her life, she'd felt a kind of longing for the vampire's company. There was something right about the words "_Aunt Drusilla_" rolling off of her tongue.

Elle physically ached at the memory. If it had ended there, with too-cold arms holding her in a mother's cradle, whispering of a family, it would have been the makings of a surreal dream instead of a vivid nightmare.

"You with me, love?"

Spike's voice grounded her. Elle shot him a glance, moving a bit faster to keep up with him. "I'm here," she assured, her voice so low that only he and their third companion, the vampire leading them, Angel, could hear. "Are you sure this is the place?"

Angel's head turned, not enough to seen her, but enough to acknowledge her existence. "I'm going around back. You two, stay here until I give the signal."

"Of course you're using the backdoor, poofer…"

Spike reached out, snagging her elbow to pull her into the shadow of the factory building. This wasn't the first one they'd searched over the past two days, so she had reason to doubt. But Elle could feel it, in her gut—this was the right place. Drusilla was here. Which meant Reid was here.

God…if she'd known that running away from her problems would put one of her old teammates in danger, Elle wondered if she would have made the same decision. She knew for a fact that, with or without Drusilla whispering in her ear, she would have probably left the Bureau far before retirement. If not that serial rapist, then another human monster would have met the end of her gun eventually… She'd spent her entire adult life fighting off those who'd take power from others through sex, violence, but when she'd finally been attacked herself, had her own power taken away, she'd craved its return with such ferocity that she could almost understand a vampire's bloodlust, just from that need alone.

So, she couldn't say that Drusilla had steered her life off its course. No, Aunt Dru had just been a messenger, delighted to be telling Elle that, eventually she would be joining her vampire family, but, as hollow as Elle felt when she quit her job, she'd not wanted to be a soulless beast. She wanted her humanity, even if it only a remnant of it remained.

Running hadn't been a permanent solution, but tonight Elle Greenaway planned to end this. One way or the other, she would satisfy her cravings; she would take her power back.

Spike, over the few months they'd known one another, had developed an uncanny ability to read her mind. He shoved her against the metal siding of the building. "You're coming away breathing, understood?"

Elle stared at him, eyes deadened. Spike shook his head. "Christ—fine. Let's just do this. Then I can say I told you so when you're buying us a round of beer afterward."

When he pushed away, headed back to the front door, Elle bit down a grin. Somehow, he'd wiped her determination right off the slate. "Didn't Angel say to wait?"

"Bollocks. He knows I do the opposite he says, so, he was actually telling us to walk in like we own the bleedin' place."

Elle lined herself up beside Spike, gave him a silent count, and nodded. He kicked the side entry door open, fragments of metal from the lock scattering across a cement floor. So much for subtlety.

Elle entered right behind him, a gun aimed over his shoulder as he swaggered onward, his beaten black duster whisking behind him. The soles of her boots crunched glass, and she shot a glance upward. The metal ceiling was high above, a catwalk to the far side of the building leading to a stack of closed off rooms—probably offices for whoever used to manage the storage center—but what caught her attention were the hanging lights attached to long, descending poles. The glass lay beneath each one, as if they'd been purposely shattered.

Only, the building still had light coming from somewhere at its heart, so at least one bulb remained. Elle followed the faint glow past a stack of shipping containers, Spike seemingly doing the same as he navigated down another tall row of crates like a mouse in a maze. Elle wondered what was stored here, but she didn't want to pause her search to find out. Especially when she could hear a sound up ahead.

It took her a moment to register that it was a voice, but she was sure Spike had already known as much. He couldn't have recognized it, though. Elle did.

"_'Oh, you can't help that,' said the Cat: 'We're all mad here. I'm mad. You're mad.'—'How do you know I'm mad?' said Alice."_

Elle held her breath, listening to the words. She remembered how many times she'd ignored that voice, hoping that her teammate would quit spewing information like a geyser, but it sounded different now. Sweet. Like he was speaking to a child, not giving his peers factoids.

"Reid," she whispered.

Spike shot her a look, confusion in his eyes. She frowned, acknowledging that she didn't understand either. They moved on until Spike held up a hand to stop her from walking past him. She cocked her head, glancing over his shoulder, and saw what he saw.

_"—'You must be,' said the Cat, 'otherwise you wouldn't have come here.' –Alice didn't think that proved it at all: however she went on. 'And how do you know that you're mad?'"_

The light cast a white glow, washing out the floral pattern of a battered sofa—at its center sat the body of an overweight, elderly man in a black security officer uniform. His eyes were open, head lolled to the side to show a bloodless rip in his throat. At his sides were dolls, standing, sitting, all attentive, their ceramic faces turned in the same direction as the corpse's. They were an audience, she realized, for the performer…Reid.

She almost jumped forward but stopped herself, a grimace on her face. He was in a cage. Her friend was in a _cage_. It looked like a dog's kennel, barely tall enough to reach her waist, and long body was shoved inside. His back was to her, but, even from her position, staring through the mesh of metal, she could see blood staining two long lines down the light brown suit jacket he was wearing.

The agent was holding his knees against his chest, rocking slightly as he spoke. There wasn't a book in his hand, but he rattled on…Elle knew he didn't need to be looking at a page to read a story. It turned her stomach, but she could almost picture how delighted Drusilla must have been to find out he had such talent.

_"'To begin with,' said the Cat, 'a dog's not mad. You grant that?'—'I suppose so,' said Alice.—'Well, then, ' the Cat went on, 'you see a dog growls when it's angry, and wags its tail when it's pleased…'"_

Elle gave the area another once-over and decided she was done waiting. Spike must have been in agreement, because he followed beside her, pulling his stake free from his jacket.

"Reid?" she called. He didn't turn, didn't seem to hear her at all. "Spencer—it's me, Elle Greenaway."

He stiffened at the sound of her name, his head dipping low between his knees, but she could hear him continuing. _"…'Now I growl when I'm pleased, and wag my tail when I'm angry. Therefore I'm mad.'"_

She stopped at the cage and dropped down to one knee, studying his profile. Blood crusted his ear, scratch marks trailing down the side of his face and to his neck, where bruises took their place. His tie was gone, his vest and shirt twisted, as if they'd been put back on in a rush and no one had taken time to properly rebutton them. Elle didn't want to think about that, about why he looked the way he looked.

"Spencer—g_oddamnit_, stop and look at me!"

He sucked in a shallow breath but didn't lift his eyes to meet hers. "Are you real?" he asked. He shivered, as if he'd heard an answer. "I don't like this game, Drusilla. You said we wouldn't play it again. You said it was story time."

Elle felt a tug at the center of her chest, and she rubbed the spot. She thought, being as hollow as she was, she wouldn't be able to feel this again. "Spike?"

"Bloody hypnotism…" the muttered.

The vampire moved around her, finding the front latch. He gave the chains a look-over before moving to the hinges of the door and jerking. The tiny metal hoops snapped.

Reid jumped at the sound, looking between Spike and his ex-co-worker. "Elle?"

She tried to give him a hard grin, but couldn't manage it. "Just hold on a minute longer. We're getting you out of here." She looked up to Spike, hoping she wasn't lying.

"I think he's…" Spike reached in with the hand not holding the stake and grabbed the nape of Reid's neck hard enough to make him flinch. The vampire blinked, lowering his weapon. "He's alive, Elle. Hell if I know why, but Dru kept him alive."

Elle hadn't realized she was holding her breath until she let it out again. "Get him out."

"She always stays close enough to listen," Reid whispered, in warning.

Elle stood, taking a step back from the cage, back from the coldness that had been growing in her. For a moment… But, he wasn't one of them. Wasn't a monster. But he also wasn't safe yet.

Elle felt it before she heard it, her eyes shooting back up the catwalk in anticipation. A clatter sounded and a moment later the door to the top office broke loose, Angel flying through the air. He hit the cargo boxes back first, collapsing the top one, and then rolled off, his stomach slamming against the hard cement. Before he could lift his head to grunt, another body jumped down from the walkway, hitting the boxes.

Drusilla straightened, brushing the dust off her long violet skirt, and standing a good ten feet above them. "Daddy, did you hurt yourself?" she asked, staring down her nose at the crumbled vampire on the floor. Then, as if she'd only then noticed, she clapped her hands together in glee, a smile widening across her face. "My little star and my knight! You've come to dinner!"

Angel groaned, pulling himself up onto his hands and knees. Dru cocked her head, taking the movement as an invitation. She jumped off the edge of the boxes, her boots hitting his back and slamming him back down again. He hissed in pain, but she ignored him, stepping off and giving a twirl.

"Mean old cock came crowing—" She shot Angel a narrow glance. "—but he's right, I know, time to stop following the cow and spoon and swallow the night whole…" Drusilla strode forward, her yellow, demon's eyes set on Elle. "See, my darling niece? You've brought our family together, naught Daddy and my wandering Spike, our sweet little pet, and you… My falling star, you crashed right where you should…"

"Ah, Dru, I see you're still queen of the nutters." Spike moved forward slowly, a sneer at his lips. "I'll admit it—I miss the crazy talk." He leaned around her, watching Angel pull himself back up, and raised a brow. "And you always did know how to make an entrance—"

His words were cut off by Drusilla backhanding him. Spike flew a few feet, landing on his side. "Mummy's talking," Drusilla chided, and walked past him. She held her arms out to Elle. "Come now, give your Auntie a hug, and I'll forget how very much you should be punished for making off with my favorite candlesticks."

"Elle—"

She was almost sure the call came from Reid, but she didn't heed it. Those open arms were tempting. They were an invitation to forget, to widen the hole and let what remained fall inside. Elle reached out with one hand, entangling her fingers into Dru's.

She raised her other hand as well, leveling the gun at the vampire's chest and squeezing the trigger. The first round threw the vampire back, ending their embrace before it could begin. The second round would have killed her if she'd been human. The third… A small, cruel smirk worked its way onto Elle's face. The third shot was just for fun.

It happened so quickly, she didn't realize she was trapped until the weapon fell from her hand. Elle bucked against the steely arms holding her tight, but Spike held her against his chest. "You're not a monster, Elle," he hissed.

Elle cried out in anger, watching Angel grab Drusilla by her dark hair before she could stand back up and brush off the sting of the bullets. Angel's body thrust forward, his arm crooked as he shoved a stake in through her back.

Elle quieted, her scream lost as she watched the wood reappear out the front, right over the heart. Drusilla caught her eye, "Our family," she mumbled, smiling, and burst into ashes.

Angel stared down at the mess, breathing as if he needed the air. Then he looked up, past Elle, locking eyes with Spike.

"I promised you," Spike whispered, in her ear, "promised I wouldn't let her make you a monster. Like she did me."

She stilled, her blood rushing from the rage, and then nodded. "Thanks." Elle forced her wet gaze up to meet Angel's. "Thank you both."

Spike released her, taking a step back, and then moved to the cage, where Reid was crouched, watching with rapt attention. Elle almost laughed, almost, because she knew him, and, even if Drusilla had managed to rattle a few of his screws loose, he was already processing all that he'd just seen. He could have given them a word-for-word playback, if he'd wanted.

A little hesitantly, he took Spike's arm, slowly crawling free from the gap in the cage door. "Elle, I'm sorry..." His voice was hoarse, as if his body had finally caught up with the week he'd spent as the vampire's song bird. "I'm sorry, she—"

Elle cut him off. "It's not your fault you were taken, Reid. Do you understand me? None of what happened with me had anything to do with you."

He stared at the corpse on the sofa, his eyes wide and a little lost, before he nodded to himself. "What do I say, when they ask…?"

Spike gave him a pat on the arm and walked past him. "Better the two of you figure that out soon, mate, because I hear sirens headed this way."

Elle shoved her gun back into her jacket. She'd expected this when she'd called Morgan and asked about Reid's disappearance. The FBI hadn't had any leads on their missing agent, and she knew they'd be on her trail quickly. Apparently, she was easy to find, when they were actually looking. "We need to go then."

Reid's brow wrinkled. "Go?"

Spike paused. "Doesn't have to be a 'we' to it, if you don't want, love."

Elle rolled her eyes at his sincerity and then smiled sadly at Reid. She could almost feel his tremble—his world was upside down. She'd done that. She and her bloodline.

"I'm sorry this happened to you, Spencer. I really am, and I know you'll use that genius brain of yours to come up with a story the team'll believe. But you need to go back to your family." She stepped away, letting her gaze shift to Spike and Angel. "And, I need to go with mine."


	6. Starshine

**Disclaimer**: I do not own Angel or Criminal Minds. Written for fun, not profit.

**Summary: **Follow-up to the _Catch a Falling Star_ series. Reid can't forget what Drusilla did to him. Angel can't forget that the sins of his past keep affecting innocent people.

**Author's notes: **Okay, so I said, "Save it for a Rainy Day" would be the last story in the series, and it was, in a way, but I couldn't get this moment out of my head—so, Bonus Story! Featuring Spencer and Angel.

* * *

"Starshine"

* * *

The kid looked okay.

Angel told himself that was the only reason he was here, hugging the shadows of the crowded bar. He'd had to visit DC on business, or, as the others had been so apt to correct him, spy on Buffy Summer's meeting with certain military higher-ups. Regardless, he figured he'd get all his stalking out of the way before heading back across the U.S., to his new home and his new…what were Spike, Illyria, and Elle? He didn't want to put a label there, but he was sure there was one that would fit just right. Elle had used it enough already; she called them_ family._

Angel didn't want to think about that too hard. He'd stick with "allies."

Still, he'd told Elle that, if he had a chance while he was in the area, he'd check in on the man they'd rescued from Drusilla.

But, seeing if he appeared physically well took about ten minutes of skulking near his apartment. The kid looked okay, but he wasn't. Angel could tell with just a glance. When his friends came by to pick him up, the vampire had followed.

He had to be sure.

Angel frowned; it wasn't fair, what he was doing. He knew that. Not interfering in Reid's life was another of Elle's requests—when that woman had started bossing him around so much, he wasn't sure, but if she kept Spike miraculously less annoying, Angel was willing to put up with her attitude…He shook his head, suddenly feeling bitter. Mostly toward himself, because he realized that, at this point, he was simply making excuses.

Who was he kidding? None of this was for Elle. Angel needed to see the kid for his own reasons. And more importantly, he needed the kid to see him.

Dr. Spencer Reid, that's what Elle called him, was too vigilant for a man on the town, surrounded by laughing co-workers and friends. It was easy to catch his eye, even from far across the room. Reid blinked, surprised, but he hid his reaction well. Hid the tremble of his fingers well, too, as he slid from his chair, muttering something to a tall black man with his arm around a round-faced blonde in bright pink and yellow.

Angel retreated to the hallway leading to the establishment's back exit, paused so the kid might catch up, then slid out the door and into the tight alleyway. He stiffed the air, let his eyes roam; he was alone. A moment later the door opened and Spencer Reid slid out to join him.

The kid was tall, lanky, and not really a kid at all, but Angel figured, with a face like his, he'd probably wear the title for a few more years. Reid dug his fingers into the pocket of his pants, hunching his shoulders a bit, as if that would hide the way his pulse point was practically vibrating against his throat.

"Do you know who I am?"

He nodded. "Angel."

Of course he knew. Normal people could try and forget when something strange, something unexplainable happened to them, but Elle had told Angel all about this guy…and Reid wasn't going to be able to forget a damn thing. Angel didn't envy him his natural gifts. Not a bit.

Angel wasn't good at small talk, still awkward around people, despite his relationships with humans over the past few years. Unfortunately, it looked as if Dr. Reid was even worse at starting a conversation.

"How are you?" Angel realized that wasn't a good question and backtracked. "Have you started back to work?"

Reid swallowed, hard enough to leave his adam's apple bouncing. Angel realized he was standing a bit too close and moved back.

The kid nodded in appreciation. "Next week. I return next week. My friends were taking me out in celebration."

Angel blinked in surprise. It had been several months since he and the others had left Dr. Reid behind to be found by the FBI. He'd figured there'd be a need for recovery time but…Angel grimaced. If he the guy needed that much time off, then he wasn't dealing. He hadn't handled it well at all. No surprise there. Drusilla had him to herself for over a week, and Angel knew exactly how she liked to treat her favorite pets.

"Elle is wanted for questioning in my kidnapping." Reid shook his head, frustrated. "I tried to explain that she wasn't involved, but witnesses spotted her with two male suspects, fleeing the scene. They…not even my team would…" He sighed, his voice low when it returned, as if someone might be listening in. "They say they trust me, trust what I saw, but they don't. And they're upset that they've been told to drop the case now. I didn't…I know better than to try and tell them the truth, so they've got a good reason to think I'm lying. I am."

Angel watched him carefully. "It's hard to explain the bad guy's dead when there's nothing but a pile of ashes as evidence."

Reid reached up, rubbing a spot on his neck where Drusilla had left one of her "kisses". He shivered, as if he could feel her presence. Angel wanted to move forward, yank his hand down, but he held his place.

"I know vampires are real. I know Drusilla was real. But—" His voice cracked, his eyes locked on the concrete beneath his feet. "They've had me in therapy and sometimes, afterward, things get mixed up. I've heard it so many times now, that Elle called Morgan with the tip, that Elle was spotted in the area, that Elle's fingerprints were found on my cage…And she looks so much like _her_."

Angel did know. The resemblance was the reason he'd avoided Elle as best he could for months. "Sometimes you think it was Elle who held you captive," Angel concluded.

Reid's frowned tightened. "I know that's not true. I know it. But it would be so easy to believe the other stuff was all just a hallucination." His glanced up quickly, eyes wide. "Don't tell Elle I said that. Please."

"I won't." Angel chewed his lip, considering how to proceed. He could hear a voice inside, down the hallway that had led here. One of Reid's friends was checking the restrooms, calling his name. "You're not crazy, kid."

"But Drusilla wanted me to be," he said, a slight, frightened grin on his face. "She told me she'd fill my pockets with starshine. Said I had voices in my head, that they wanted to be able to sing with the stars. She saw something in me, something like what was inside her."

"But she didn't release it. We've all got our demons." Angel smiled back, hoping it was a stark comparison to the twisting in his gut. This was exactly what he'd been afraid of, that Reid would realize _why_ Drusilla had taken him in the first place. "I'd know about demons. There's one inside you, too. But, that doesn't mean it has to come out and play. You're still you, Reid. Drusilla didn't win. She didn't break you."

Reid let out a shaky breath. "You're trying to comfort me, but I know why you came here, Angel."

The vampire stiffened. "Elle wanted me to check on you."

Reid shook his head. "You came here because you wanted to know if your sins were still catching up with you. You feel like Drusilla was your monster, so you're responsible if she created another one. I bet that's led to some resentment toward the other vampire with you, Spike. Since he's Dru's...child, isn't it?" He paused, shrugging one shoulder, as if in explanation. "I'm a profiler. I can read people, even undead ones."

Angel bit his lip to keep down his reply. To stop himself from saying that the observation had nothing to do with criminal profiling and everything to do with the voices. "Maybe. But I didn't need to come here to confirm that my sins are still haunting me. I'm reminded of my past enough already."

"What was Drusilla like…before you…?" Reid's voice drifted off.

He didn't get a chance to continue. The door behind him opened, casting him in a halo of light. Angel was gone before his friend could spot more than a shadow, gone before Reid even realized who was looking for him.

It was fortunate enough. Angel didn't want to reply to the question. "She was a bit like you," he said, nevertheless. But no stars or song birds answered him. Because he'd never had that gift, himself.

He could return to his family now that he knew his creation, his monster, hadn't created another if its kind. Drusilla, after all, had never been as truly devious as Angelus, and for that Angel would always be thankful.

Dr. Spencer Reid remained unbroken.


End file.
